I met a man, upon the snowy path,
Pacing along, right swarthy was his hue,
A moving contrast to the dazzling scene-
"Good time of day! 'tis a white world," said he.
"It is, my friend, and thou becomest it well,
For thou art dark, but comely." "Ne'ertheless,
Said he, "if I be rob'd with righteousness
Imputed, white from Zion, I am safe :

It covers all, and I may rest secure."

"It may be so— -but mark me well, my friend,
Heaven gives both warp and woof, but thou must weave
The stuff thyself;" he frown'd, and stalk'd away.
But now a Bacchanalian din is heard,
And yonder fumes the temple. See the mists
Disperse, and show to philosophic eyes,
Sad sight! another, and another haunt
Of riot in my ken, deserted late,

When hideous Want o'er all the region scowl'd,
Bringing Despair and Anguish in her train,
And rescu'd from the cauldron of the fiends
The golden grain that fed the venom❜d bowl;
Or dash'd the madd'ning mixture to the ground.
O Famine! all unlovely as thou wast,
Thou didst possess the charm of soberness
At least. The fiend *, whose medicated lymph
Dizzies the brain, and the slack nerves untwines,
Walk'd thro' dry places then. No more was heard
Cotytto's lay sonorous, none profan'd
With blasphemies the pure and limpid air
Fanning their burning lungs. But now again
On holt and hill, as Comus waves around,
Waves o'er the region, these unholy founts

During the years of famine in 1800 and 1801, the stores of grain designed for the distilleries, were converted into food for the poor.

Burst forth amain, and scare the Naiad Nymph.
His temples all are garnish'd, and he leads
Seven imps from Phlegethon's enfuriate wave
More deadly than himself. I pass them by
Devoting them to Hades, whence they came.

But now my weary limbs some respite need:
I reach a cot; the friendly latch upmoves;
I sit and light the incense-breathing tube
With aromatic plant Virginian fill'd;
"Grateful Composer, Parent of Day-dreams,
"Balm of hurt minds, kind Nature's second course."
I cast my eye around, intent to learn
On every thing I see to moralize.-
Yonder the besom on the dresser leans;
The kitten, in her gambols, tries to climb
The uncouth escalade, and now her feet
Gain the mid osier which the bundle binds ;
When lo! it nods a little, like a tower
At a commencing earthquake; her quick sense
The awful warning feels; and down she goes,
Steadily anchoring in the woven twigs
Her piercing claws at every step she takes.
O Maximilian! Orleans! fell Marat!

Thus had you, when Ambition's ladder shook,
Timely retreated, you had scap'd your doom;
Nor led by scorn of danger, dar'd with crimes
On crimes accumulated, to secure

A tottering seat of empire, soon o'erturn'd
By Corde's poniard and the guillotine!—
In yon calm pool the gander and his mate
Amid their family in converse bland,
Promise themselves a merry carnival,
Solac'd with sweet repast and sound repose.
Ah, much beguil'd, much failing, hapless goose,

*These are seven dram houses on this road, in less than six miles.

Thou never more, when a few weeks are gone,
Shalt meet with sweet repast or sound repose!
Yon wanton boy, with snow-ball in his hand,
Shall, on a trumpet of thy windpipe, soon
Play most discordant notes. Ah! how unlike
Thy welcome evening lay, or mattin song!
Yet partly thou shalt live, thy bony breast
Shall featly frisk it o'er the cottage floor,
A strange automaton, by village hinds

A Skip-jack nam'd, whilst thou, on Lethe's stream,
A naked wailing miserable goose,

Shalt join the shadows of Cäyster's swans,
And sing in descant sad thy prospects lost.
-Such are the windy hopes of all below,
By the pure light of Wisdom unillum'd!
-Yon turkies perching on the corny pile,
How they disdain the tenants of the sty,
Prowling and grubbing, with industrious snout,
The turn'd up soil beneath! Unthinking birds,
Mindless of that alliance, which ere long
The butcher and the cook, dire plenipos,
Shall make between you and the bristly kind
Now objects of your scorn. The savoury ham
Plac'd on the board in dread proximity,
Shall welcome you, and ask you
how you
The guillotine and spit. Such is the doom
That Pomp must feel, when mixt with peasant-clay
It slumbers with its brethren in the mould.

Let not the fleeting pageantry of state,

lik'd

Ye sons of earth inflate your hearts with pride,
But know your common origin, and learn
With Sympathy's sweet glow to melt the ice
Which else would cake around your callous hearts,
And make you scorn the man in doublet gray.

B.

FAIRY ANECDOTE,

Relative to the Birth of Her Royal Highness AUGUSTA FREDERICA, Reigning Dutchess of Brunswick and Lunenberg, &c.

.

ONE day, when Sol by Leo led
Had mounted o'er the reapers head,
Oberon with his Mab had been

To see the sheaves were bound up clean,
And with fresh liquor to supply

The failing jug of Industry.

They past a grove, a bank, a brook,

When thus his leave the Monarch took :

"Adieu, dear Mab! how great's my sorrow!

"Adieu, our revels, till to-morrow!
"To night I trip o'er land and sea,
"The Moon my only company.
"Great is my charge, alone consign'd
"To Oberon of Elfin-kind.

"A royal babe is born this night,
"If Oberon conjecture right,

"A British Prince, of Brunswick's line,
"Britain I love, her Prince is mine:
" "Tis mine to watch his natal hour,
"And bless with all my Elfin pow'r,
"Gift him with all my favour can,
"To grace the Hero, or the Man,
"From pole to pole extend his reign,
"Unite both worlds in his domain."

Mab curt'sy'd with a silent sneer,
Knowing a sweet revenge was near.

From Fairy-land at close of day The Elfin Monarch trip'd away, And o'er the Park's moist blade he run, As the Horse Guards was striking one : With a light bound he bent the blade, And, thro' a crevice swift convey'd, Among the gossips took his stand, With globes and scepters in his hand: When sudden pop'd in laughing fit Mab thro' the key-hole opposite! He saw a triumph in her air, He look'd, and lo! Augusta there! "For others keep, the Fairy cry'd, "Your empire spreading far and wide: "No doubtful blessing shall be hers: "Who knows, but it may prove a curse? “She's mine, and shall from me inherit "All female grace, and female merit : "Talk not of " giving all you can, 66 "To grace the Hero, or the Man :" "By me all that shall be supply'd : "I give her to be Charles's bride." BRUNSWICK, AUG. 12, 1782.

JAMES SIX.

I

CANNOT trust to common ears
The name that I adore;

I have a thousand tender fears,
Though she should love no more!
May happiness her steps await,
Where'er intent to go;

And may she never feel the weight
That I am doom'd to know.

P. L. C.